


The Fox and the Wolf

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [25]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bitten!Stiles, M/M, Pining, learning control, werefox!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4271502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events with the nogitsune, Stiles needs to get away from Beacon Hills for college. Unfortunately, it seems that nowhere is really safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fox and the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> So we went through several plots in the past few months, and neither of us had any time to transfer the rps like we usually do, so those of you who have subscribed to this series will most likely be bombarded with notifications for the next week or so.
> 
> Edit: Eep! Almost forgot to add in the link to the fanart that inspired this fic!  
> http://staticstarling.tumblr.com/post/108878855128/made-more-stiles-derek-because-im-pretty-sure

The past few years had been incredibly rough-- Laura's death, Peter's betrayal and Kate's return(and subsequent death), Jackson turning into a Kanima then leaving for London after that whole fiasco was dealt with, the alpha pack, Erica and Boyd's deaths, Cora's return, their 'family vacation', and then Stiles being possessed by the nogitsune. Derek would say that the pack had definitely earned the (relatively) peaceful senior year they'd been enjoying so far. Derek and Cora had readily accepted Scott as their alpha, and had felt much better for it. They got to know their new pack even better, mourned together after Allison's death, and grew together as a pack.

Which was why everyone was so surprised when Stiles announced that he was going to be visiting some colleges out of state; everyone(except for Lydia, who was still a bit undecided) was staying in-state. Stiles, apparently, wasn't really considering that at all. Derek felt absurdly betrayed; he and Stiles had grown close over the past few months-- had been growing close ever since Stiles held Derek up in a pool for two hours. "All the way to Washington?" he asked, looking at Stiles in shock.

Stiles looked a little guilty, but he nodded all the same. "Nothing's set in stone yet," he pointed out. "But I'm definitely interested in what they have to offer, and my dad was saying it might do me some good, y'know, to get away for a while."

Well, Derek couldn't really argue with that. "Are you going by yourself?" he asked, concerned.

"Careful, Derek," Stiles said, smirking. "I might think you're worried about me."

Derek gave Stiles a flat look. "We're pack, stupid," he said, voice almost fond. "Of course I care about you."

Stiles gave a pleased noise and did a little wiggle in his seat. "Well, I will be going alone, but I'll be armed," he said.

Lydia snorted. "With your baseball bat?" she asked.

"No," Stiles said mildly. "With my gun."

"Your dad got you your own gun?" Scott asked, surprised; the pack knew that the sheriff had been teaching Stiles self-defense, but up until now they'd assumed Stiles was using one of the sheriff's.

Stiles smirked again, smug. "And a load of wolfsbane bullets." He slid his gaze back to Derek. "So I'll be fine."

Derek wasn't entirely convinced, but this had to be Stiles's choice; he'd had too many of those taken away ever since Scott got bit. "You're sure?"

"Positive as a positive pregnancy test."

* * *

Okay, so maybe he wasn't quite that positive, but he was certain enough that when a big, hulking alpha jumped out at him from the bushes in his hotel's parking lot two days into his trip, he fell back on his ass and didn't even have enough breath to scream when the bastard sunk its teeth into him. Stiles fired off his gun an instant later and felt the beast slump onto him, a very literal dead weight. It took a little longer for him to get his shit together enough to get up and hide the body, very poorly beneath someone's pickup truck, and as he stumbled back into the hotel he thanked his lucky stars that the place was just shady enough that it didn't have CCTV cameras outside.

Safely inside his room, Stiles cleaned the bite on his shoulder and dressed it, and then spent a long time staring at himself in the mirror. A quick poke around his gums told him that he didn't have fangs, and no matter how angry he got by thinking about all the stupid shit that had happened to them in the past few years, his eyes stayed their usual murky brown. The bite wasn't healing, either. Perhaps he'd killed the alpha quick enough that the bite hadn't taken? He was trying not to think about the fact that Scott hadn't started displaying werewolfy tendencies until the morning after, but he stayed up until five a.m. just in case, and when there was still no sign of fangs or healing wounds, he gave in and went to bed.

He woke up with paws.

* * *

Derek knew just from the tone of Scott's voice that something was wrong the moment that the alpha called Derek, asking if the pack could meet at the loft. Derek agreed, obviously, then paced anxiously until everyone arrived. What if Scott's news was something about Stiles? The human had been good about checking in consistently with everyone, but something could have happened.

Scott's expression was grim when Derek let him in, but he didn't say anything until everyone was present. "Stiles is missing."

"Missing?" Lydia asked sharply. "What do you mean, _missing_?"

"I mean, the pack who lives closest to the college Stiles was visiting got word from their emissary that there was a feral alpha in the area, and when they went to warn Stiles, he was nowhere to be found-- but they found the alpha's body."

"Does the sheriff know?" Lydia demanded.

Scott nodded. "He was the first one I called; he's at the station now, pulling some strings and filing a missing person's report. Mom's with him."

Kira, who was sitting beside Scott, gave his knee a squeeze. "What do you think happened?" she asked. "Stiles obviously fought the alpha off; could he be laying low somewhere?"

Scott worried his lower lip. "They called me from his phone. Why would he leave his phone?"

"Maybe he dropped it in his haste to run away?" Kira suggested.

Peter smirked. "Or maybe he's dead."

Derek spoke for the first time since Scott made his announcement. "We'd have felt that," he said. "He's pack-- more than that, he's the spark. He's what first brought us all together, before the alpha pack. If he was dead, we'd have felt that. Even the humans would have."

"Are you sure?" Lydia asked, searching Derek's face.

Derek nodded. "I'm sure," he said confidently.

"So Stiles is alive, then, and he's run for some reason," Scott surmised. "We'll need to let every pack we know of know about what's happened, and to keep an eye out for him."

Lydia sighed. "And in the meantime? Are we going to get out there ourselves?"

Derek opened his mouth to answer, but Scott beat him to it. "I want Derek to go, at least-- we all still have things here in Beacon Hills that we can't just walk away from," he explained. "Derek, I want you to go to where Stiles was last, see if maybe you can track him-- but if you can't, then come back here, okay?"

Derek frowned. "Why?"

"The sheriff has things covered from the normal end-- and we have a lot of allies now, since things have calmed down. I'll ask them to keep an eye out, and if you lose the scent, you won't be able to pick it back up by just wandering around."

Derek wanted to argue, but he could see the logic. "Okay," he conceded grudgingly.

Again, Kira squeezed Scott's knee. "We'll find him," she said quietly.

* * *

Derek had no luck finding Stiles-- he was able to track his scent from the motel he went missing from to quite a ways down the road before it finally died out and Derek was forced to concede defeat. He returned to Beacon Hills with a heavy heart; maybe if he'd insisted on going with Stiles, none of this would have happened.

Over the next few months, the pack dealt with some minor monsters-- a ghoul who got the living and dead populations of Beacon Hills mixed up, a Bäckahästen(that was what Deaton called it, at least; Cora and the rest of the pack just called it a demon horse), and a couple of omegas. The packs they were allied with checked in once a month, usually only to tell them that there had been no sign of Stiles-- until one day about five months after Stiles went missing.

* * *

The Stilinskis may have come pretty close to being evicted once or twice in the aftermath of Claudia's death, but Stiles had never slept rough once in his life until that night. Well, actually, three nights _after_ that night. It had taken him that long to work out how to shift back to his human shape, and he didn't count the nights he'd spent on the streets as a mother fucking _fox_ as sleeping rough. That was what foxes were supposed to do.

After that, he was forced to take stock and make some decisions. He'd lost everything he'd brought with him to Washington when a maid had chased him from his motel room with a mop, but that wasn't too big of a deal. Considering what he'd become, he wasn't intending on going home or contacting the pack any time soon, if ever. So he travelled across the state, making the most of his hateful, and somewhat mysterious, ability to shift fully, until he came across a forest that didn't smell too much like a foreign pack and made it his home.

The full moons were the worst. Stiles' control wasn't horrendous, but it was still pretty bad. He didn't have a choice but to spend the whole night as a fox, running around in utter misery as he tried to fight against his instincts to run and bite and kill. He hadn't seen a human for over two months and that was definitely for the best; he wasn't sure how long bunnies would satisfy the monster inside of him.

This latest full moon was by far the worst. The fresh scent of a strange wolf was all over his territory, and Stiles nearly drove himself insane trying to keep his fox from following it and ripping its owner to shreds. By the time the sun came up he was too exhausted to shift back, and he fell into a fitful sleep curled up inside his den, utterly unaware that salvation was approaching.

* * *

Derek arrived in the pack's territory the morning after the full moon; a quick meeting with the alpha gave him permission to search the area for his missing packmate, and he was off, shifting into beta form and combing the forest. It didn't take long for him to pick up Stiles's scent, and it was _fresh_ \-- Derek broke into a run, sprinting along the trail and finally ending up outside a tangle of briars. The scent was thickest here, and Derek could hear a heartbeat inside the briars, so there was some sort of den in there-- but how could Stiles fit in there? Derek shifted back to human before tentatively calling, "Stiles?"

Stiles snuffled softly in his sleep and covered his head with a paw, but didn't wake.

Derek hesitated, but called again, louder this time. "Stiles? You in there? It's Derek."

Stiles whined and cracked one eye open, lifting his paw so he could hear better. There was something outside his den, something that smelled... familiar, but not. A werewolf. Could it be the one who'd been invading his territory? He was on his feet in an instant, a threatening growl tearing its way out of his throat.

Derek backed away a step at the growl-- it was definitely animal, but the scent of _Stiles_ was so strong here... "Stiles?"

_Stiles_. That was his name; shit, that was his _name_. When was the last time that Stiles had heard it, and why was he hearing it now? Suspicious, wary beyond belief, Stiles crept forward and out of his den - and was greeted by a pair of boots.

Derek stared in shock at the sleek black fox that emerged. His shock was partly from the fact that he wasn't expecting a fox-- wasn't sure _what_ he was expecting-- but also because black foxes were rare, and for this one to come out of its den when Derek was standing not three feet from the entrance...

Derek crouched down, arms open and posture non-threatening as he asked once more, "Stiles?"

_Derek_. Stiles took a step back, his ears flattening against his head as his eyes darted from side to side, desperately searching for an escape.

”Stiles, hey," Derek said, careful to keep his voice calm. "It's just me, okay? I'm here to help. We're all worried about you, and we miss you. We can help you, Stiles; you're pack, you know that. Please don't run."

Stiles growled again, and snapped at Derek for good measure. If he would just back off, even a little bit, Stiles could make a break for it.

Stiles didn't smell angry, he smelled... scared. Derek didn't move one way or the other. "Stiles, please," he pleaded, voice cracking slightly.

Stiles whined, high and desperate. He wanted to go to Derek, he really did, but he _couldn't_ ; it wasn't safe.

Derek kept his crouch, but his hands moved until he was holding them towards Stiles, palm up. "Please," he whispered. "Stiles, please; we want you to come home. We miss you. Scott misses you, Lydia misses you, _I_ miss you... Your dad... it's hurting him, Stiles."

Stiles whined again, but this time when he moved it was to take a hesitant step forward.

"That's it," Derek said coaxingly. "I'm just here to help you, Stiles-- I know you're scared, and confused, but you don't have to do this on your own. You have a pack."

_No, I don't_ , Stiles thought desperately, but Derek smelled warm and familiar and Stiles ached with the promise of being held. There was nothing more to be done; for once, Stiles followed his instincts and rushed into Derek's arms.

Derek braced himself when Stiles started forward, and he wrapped Stiles in a hug when the other landed on him. "You're okay, you're gonna be fine," he murmured, stroking a hand down Stiles's back. "I've got you; I've got you."

Stiles could only hope that was true.

* * *

Once Stiles and Derek had both calmed down a little, Derek had called the local alpha and let him know that Stiles had been found, asking him to pass the word on to Scott. Once that was taken care of, Derek took Stiles to the nearest (nice) motel he could find and smuggled him inside, locking the door securely behind him and drawing the blinds closed. He gestured to a WalMart bag on the bed as he settled on the floor in front of the fox. "Do you think you can shift back?" he asked gently. "I've got clothes for you, and some shampoo and soap."

Stiles' ears were flat against his head again, and he looked from Derek to the bag and back. The idea of a shower did sound _fantastic_...

Derek didn't say anything else, just waited patiently for Stiles to make up his mind.

It took a good few minutes, but at last Stiles decided that a shower was worth a few moments of stilted conversation with Derek before he could shift back and make his escape. That didn't mean he wanted Derek to see him naked, though. At last he got to his feet and wandered around the side of the bed, dragging the top sheet off with his teeth. When he straightened up again, it was on two legs and with the sheet wrapped around his waist.

Derek had politely turned his head to the side when he realized what Stiles was after; when Stiles stood up, Derek glanced over. "Hey," he said with a small smile, levering himself to his feet. "Shower's through that door."

Stiles thought about saying something, but quickly decided against it. He just nodded, grabbed the bag Derek had left on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

Derek waited for Stiles, scrolling through his phone and only feeling slightly guilty at all the messages he had from the pack demanding that he "answer your goddamned phone Derek or so help me I will abuse my power as sheriff of this county and I will lock you up for life when you get back." Derek fired off a quick mass text: **Stiles is with me. I'm taking care of things. He's okay.**

Stiles washed his _everything_ three times, and then once more for good measure. When he finally got out of the shower, he felt more together than he had for months, and he took his time dressing just so that he could appreciate the opportunity. At last he came out of the bathroom, daring to peer at Derek through the wet strands of his hair that were falling into his eyes. He looked amazing, as always, and Stiles felt a pang of longing deep in his chest. Surely it wouldn't be too awful if he stayed here, just for an hour or two?

Derek glanced up from his phone when he heard the door open, and his heart twisted in his chest. He swallowed, though, shoving the feeling aside in favor of asking, "Feel better?"

Stiles nodded. "Thanks," he whispered, his voice hoarse from disuse.

Derek's expression softened. "Do you want to talk about what happened?" he asked gently.

Stiles hesitated, but shook his head. "There's nothing to talk about."

Derek didn't push, just nodded. "Okay. Do you mind me asking why you ran?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Stiles asked, a little too harshly.

"Come to your pack, and trust them," Derek shot back before taking a deep breath. "We've been so worried about you, Stiles-- we knew you weren't dead, but other than that we had _no_ idea what was going on."

Stiles looked away. "I couldn't put you guys in danger like that."

"What do you mean, 'in danger'?" Derek asked, confused.

Stiles' gaze snapped back to Derek. "Are you serious?" he asked sharply. "You saw what I turned into, Derek!"

"I saw what happened when a thousand-year-old evil spirit possessed you," Derek retorted. "That wasn't _you_ , and Scott and Lydia trapped the nogitsune."

"Yeah, and it's back!" Stiles snapped. "Or it left some sort of mark on me that screwed me up. I didn't mean the first time, Derek, I meant now. A fox? A _black fox_? Tell me that doesn't have 'nogitsune' written all over it."

"I don't know about the 'black' part," Derek said slowly, "but you know that sometimes, when a person is bitten, they don't turn into a werewolf; they turn into a reflection of their personality. I think that's why you're a fox and not a wolf."

"You're not hearing what I'm saying," Stiles huffed, irritated. "Okay. Thanks for the clothes and the shower, but if it's all the same to you, I'd like to go home now."

Derek wanted to argue further, even opened his mouth to do so, but then decided against it, saying instead, "Alright. Where is 'home', then? Beacon Hills?"

"No," Stiles answered. "Not anymore."

That hurt, but Derek tried not to let it show. "Then where is home?"

"Where you found me. Far away from anyone I can hurt."

"Stiles," Derek said, a little frustrated but trying to keep calm, "You're not going to hurt anyone. Have you experienced any periods where you don't remember what you were doing?"

Stiles balled his hands into fists. "I'm fighting it this time, Derek. I know how to do that now. But I don't know how long I can hold it off for. It's-- it's _exhausting_ , you don't understand what it's like to have this thing inside of you that wants you to kill everyone around you."

"You're right," Derek said slowly. "I don't know that. But I know what it's like to have a thing inside you that destroys everything you care about. Please, let me help you."

"You can't," Stiles all but whined. "I can't. Derek, I couldn't bear it if I hurt you again."

"You won't," Derek said confidently. "Stiles, you don't smell _anything_ like what 'you' did when the nogitsune possessed you. You just smell like... you."

"Then maybe it's not the nogitsune," Stiles conceded. "Maybe it's _me_. I just know that I don't feel like I'm in control, and that this is nothing like what happened to Scott. I can turn into a fucking fox, Derek, a black fox. That's not normal."

"So let me help you," Derek repeated. "You're a shifter, Stiles-- that much is obvious. Just because you turn into a fox and not a wolf doesn't mean you don't need an anchor, or a pack."

"But what if I'm not safe?" Stiles asked. He didn't notice that he was shaking. "I can't do that again. I can't _be_ that again. I'd rather never set eyes on any of you ever again than risk that."

Derek stepped forward, reaching out to lay his hands on Stiles's shoulders. "Do you want to hurt me?" he asked.

Wiith every fibre of his being, Stiles did not - but there was a little voice in the back of his mind that was fighting to be heard, and that voice wanted to sink its teeth into Derek's throat. "Yes," Stiles whispered, his heart racing. "No. I don't _know_!"

"Stiles," Derek said firmly, squeezing lightly. "Which is stronger? Am I pack, or am I a threat?"

Stiles decided to shut his mouth and actually find an answer to Derek's question. Derek wasn't going to hurt him, objectively Stiles knew that, but there was still a vague sense of distrust that he couldn't seem to shake. "Neither," he said at last. "You're not safe - I mean, you don't _feel_ safe, but I know that you are. So. Whatever that means."

Derek swallowed, releasing Stiles and taking a step back. "Fair enough," he said. "But _you_ know I'm safe. So let's help your fox recognize that, too. Take it one day at a time."

Stiles sighed. "Derek, I'm not going back."

Derek raised one eyebrow. "Did I say anything about going back?"

"But... You can't stay here."

"Says who?" Derek asked. "I'm an adult; I can make my own decisions about my safety. I think you're no more dangerous than any other newly-bitten shifter. I'm certain of it."

"Derek, I'm scared," Stiles admitted quietly.

Derek's expression softened. "I know, Stiles. But please-- trust me?"

Stiles didn't see that he had much of a choice; Derek certainly wasn't going to give him one. So he nodded.

* * *

Derek negotiated with the local alpha for them to stay while Derek helped Stiles train his new abilities; the alpha was understanding, thankfully, and allowed them to stay as long as they needed so long as they didn't cause trouble with the locals. Considering the fact that Stiles had expressed a desire to stay in the woods and Derek was trying to be as accommodating as possible, Derek was confident that wouldn't be a problem. Derek and Stiles began training right away-- the very next day, in fact. "All right," Derek said as they stood in the middle of the forest, "let's see you shift. Do you have a beta form or is it all or nothing?"

"I don't know," Stiles answered honestly. "I haven't really spent much time in anything but my full shift, and I haven't looked in a mirror since..."

Derek nodded. "Understandable. Well, why don't we start with what you know you can do? Is it easy for you to go to a full shift?"

"Oh yeah, I've totally made full-shifting my bitch," Stiles said, already pulling his shirt off. "But if you wanna see, you're going to have to turn your back."

Derek refrained from rolling his eyes as he complied. "Come around where I can see you when you're ready," he said, keeping an ear out.

Stiles stripped down to his birthday suit and took care to fold his clothes neatly before doing as he was told, and shifting. Once he was on all fours again, he shook himself and padded over to sit at Derek's feet.

Derek sank to his knees, taking his time and looking Stiles over. His form really was quite handsome-- his eyes were beta gold, and that only reinforced Derek's certainty that he wasn't possessed again. "Have you ever seen the color of your eyes?" he asked conversationally. "They're gold, just like a normal beta's. Almost as pretty as your human eyes."

Stiles could swear that his heart stopped beating for a second, and he stared up at Derek, shocked.

Derek nodded. "They're gold, Stiles."

Stiles whined and laid down on his front, resting his head on the ground between his forepaws. That was a lot to take in.

Derek reached out and carefully rested his hand on Stiles's head, scratching briefly. He didn't say anything, though-- he knew how overwhelming it was, being presented with evidence that you weren't as guilty as you thought you were.

Stiles stayed there for several long minutes, meeting Derek's gaze steadily the whole time - with his _gold_ eyes. He couldn't quite decide how he felt about that. On the one hand, he obviously wasn't possessed - but on the other, he still felt like the nogitsune had left a mark on him that couldn't be wiped out. With his newfound powers and abilities, didn't that mean that he was still dangerous? Far more dangerous than he'd been as a human.

The look on Derek's face showed that he knew what Stiles was thinking, and he wasn't impressed. But he didn't say anything, because he was a fucking saint. Stiles turned his head to lick Derek's wrist in gratitude before getting back to his feet, his head cocked to the side. _What now?_

Derek withdrew his hand, resting his elbows on his knees for a moment as he thought. "Well, you've clearly mastered the full shift," Derek mused aloud. "Let's see if you have a beta form."

Stiles cocked his head to the other side. _How?_

Derek briefly considered taking a picture; Stiles looked _cute_. He decided against it, however, choosing instead to say, "Try taking the shift back to human slowly, really feel your way through it. If there's a halfway point, you'll know."

Stiles huffed and walked around Derek again, growling when it looked like Derek was going to turn and watch him. He knew that Scott's beta form came with extra hair, but he didn't know how much, and he still had some dignity. Once he was sure that Derek was going to afford him some privacy, he sat down beside his clothes and tried.

He tried for around ten minutes. He'd gotten so used to switching quickly between forms that it was hard to take it slow and actually feel what was happening. If he got impatient and tried to speed up the process a little, he went too fast and shifted back to human again. It was only once he got frustrated that something happened; he was actually going from human back to fox in order to try again, but he got stuck somewhere in the middle.

Stiles hastily brought his knees up to preserve his modesty and cleared his throat. "I think it worked."

Derek turned when Stiles spoke; he was careful to conceal his reaction as much as possible, but he knew some surprise slipped through. Stiles had managed a beta form-- but it wasn't that similar to a werewolf's. The pointed ears, yes-- though they were more reminiscent of a fox's and dusted with what looked like black fur; his eyes were the same brilliant gold they'd been in the full shift, and his mouth and nose had started to stretch just a touch, enough to hint at the shape of a muzzle. "You still have your eyebrows," was what eventually came out of Derek's mouth, and he wanted to hit himself. _That_ was what he focused on?

Stiles' eyes widened. "Seriously?" he demanded, his hands flying up to his face. "Did I get the killer sideburns? 'Cause I don't think I'd suit sideburns."

Derek couldn't help but laugh at that. "No, you didn't get sideburns-- not the really dramatic ones, anyway. Just a little bit in front of your ears."

Stiles' fingers found the little sideburns Derek was talking about and then moved up and over the point of his ears. "Goddamn it, I must look like a pixie."

Derek just grinned, fishing his phone out of his pocket and snapping a quick picture. "Here," he said, showing it to Stiles. "You can delete it afterwards, if you want."

Stiles took the phone carefully - his fingernails were suddenly a lot longer than they were supposed to be - and eyed the photo. "I could get used to it," he decided ultimately, handing the phone back to Derek. "But how do I make it go away?"

"Try to shift again," Derek said after a moment of thought. "Do you have an anchor?"

Stiles hadn't even thought about an anchor. "I... don't think so?"

Derek tilted his head. "What do you think of when you're shifting, then? What do you use to keep yourself human and to find your way back from the shift?"

Stiles sighed. "All sorts of things," he answered. "My own need to not lose myself, mostly. But sometimes, my dad. The pack." _You_.

Derek nodded slowly. "That's definitely a good start," he said thoughtfully. "See if you can use that now."

Stiles concentrated. It was easier than finding the beta form, but harder than coming back from the fox - for whatever reason - and when he finally succeeded it was freaking _weird_ to feel the hair on his face shrinking back, his ears reshaping. He told Derek as much. "I don't know how you do it so easily, man. My skin's crawling all over."

Derek grinned. "I grew up with that," he reminded Stiles. "I've heard it's always weird for bitten shifters."

Stiles conceded the point. "Can I put my clothes back on now?"

Derek nodded. "Do you want to work on your senses?"

Stiles made shooing gestures at Derek until he turned around and then started pulling his clothes back on. "I gotta say, the boosted senses are amazing, but they can get really overwhelming," he said. "I nearly went insane the last full moon, 'cause I could tell that a strange wolf was all over my territory."

Derek was confused for a moment. "Strange wolf?"

Stiles shrugged. "I dunno. I could just smell it, y'know? And I wanted to hurt it, to make it go away." He blushed suddenly. "Apparently foxy-me is kinda territorial."

_Oh_. "Foxes usually are pretty solitary," Derek admitted. "I would have thought a shifter might be different, but maybe that's because your fox has never met the pack you're part of."

Stiles' gaze shuttered, and he looked away. "Maybe," he said.

"'Maybe'?" Derek echoed, unease twisting his stomach.

Stiles blew out a breath. "You said you wanted us to work on my senses?"

"Stiles," Derek said, deciding to push just a little bit, "what do you mean, 'maybe'?"

Stiles sighed. "Derek, I've already told you that I don't consider myself part of the pack anymore. My fox is a loner because it's an omega."

"Really?" Derek asked, askance. "Because the rest of us still consider you pack-- and so do our other sides. Why don't you? Just because you spent a few months away from the rest of us?"

"Because I don't want to kill any of you!" Stiles snapped. "Any _more_ of you."

"You didn't kill Allison!" Derek protested. "The Oni did, when they were controlled by the _nogitsune_."

"Who was controlling _me_!" Stiles cried. "I'm so much more dangerous now than I ever was, Derek, why can't you see that?"

"Scott became more dangerous after he was bitten," Derek argued.

Stiles fought the urge to stamp his foot. "That's not what I mean! The nogitsune is gone, fine, but if it left something behind, something that will make me start hurting people again, then with all these fancy new powers I have now I'm capable of doing even more horrible things than I was when I was still a human. I could use the super strength and speed and healing to kill every single one of you. Which just makes your job so much harder."

"You won't," Derek said confidently. "And even if you did, I'd stop you. The pack would. Because we saw how much it hurt you the first time; but we won't have to, because _you won't hurt anyone_. Everything you've done since being bitten just confirms that, Stiles. The nogitsune left a mark on you-- but everything in life leaves a mark on you, trust me." Derek flashed his eyes to prove his point. "It makes you who you are-- and who you are is a good person."

Stiles sighed. "I don't know, Derek," he confessed. "I just don't know anymore."

"I'm not going to convince you in one conversation," Derek said quietly. "But I believe you're still a good person; a good person who's had shit things happen to him."

Stiles met Derek's gaze. "Do you believe the same about yourself?"

”I'm starting to," Derek said honestly. "It took years, but I'm starting to believe that."

Stiles' smile was warm and genuine. "It's about time," he teased softly.

Derek rolled his eyes, but his answering smile was genuine. "Yeah, yeah," he replied.

It wasn't long before Stiles became serious again. "You remember what I asked you to do, right?" he wanted to know. "If things get... bad again."

Derek nodded. "I remember," he said. "I still don't believe it'll ever be necessary, but if it is... I'll do it."

"Do you promise?" Stiles pushed.

Derek swallowed, but nodded. "I promise."

There was something tugging at the back of Stiles' mind, something that he needed to pay attention to, but he ignored it. Instead, he nodded. "Okay. Good."

* * *

Derek and Stiles worked together on mastering Stiles's new abilities for the rest of that month; stoles improved in leaps and bounds, but be still felt uneasy about the full moon. Derek tried telling him it was mind over matter, but at the full moon, that ended up not mattering: Stiles got away from Derek and led him on a grueling chase through the forest (Derek lost the scent trail a couple of times). Derek finally caught up with him near the end of the night, but that morning they were given some grave news from the alpha of the local pack.

Two humans were dead, and Stiles's scent was at the scene.

It took a few seconds for that information to sink in, and then Stiles was wheezing. "Oh my God, oh my God, Derek, I did it, I _killed them_ , Derek, I know I did."

Derek took Stiles shoulders in his hands, giving the other shifter a slight shake. "You never smelled like blood," he said firmly. "Your scent may be there, but _you never smelled like blood_. Your scent was probably there before they were killed. Just breathe, Stiles, okay? Let's breathe."

"I don't wanna breathe!" Stiles snapped, but he found himself following the exaggerated rhythm Derek set out for him. When he'd found the breath to speak, he tried again. "Derek, I don't remember what happened last night. I know I could smell a stranger again, but I thought it was a werewolf. What if it wasn't? What if I attacked those people?"

"We'll find out the truth," Derek promised. "Okay? We will find out what happened _before_ we do anything. I never smelled blood on you last night, Stiles. You didn't smell like anything I've ever smelled at a crime scene. No blood or pain or fear."

"Then maybe I took a bath," Stiles said weakly. He was pretty sure that Derek was the only thing holding him up right now. "Derek, I'm scared. You have to do what you promised, if... You have to."

"If I have to, I will," Derek promised, even though it damn near made him sick to his stomach. "But don't go jumping to conclusions, okay? Let's get the facts straight first."

This time, Stiles was too stressed to recognise the lie. "Okay," he said. "Okay. How do we do that?"

"Let's go to the scene, first," Derek decided after a moment. "See what we can scent for ourselves there."

"Yeah, okay," Stiles sighed. "Lead the way."

* * *

They managed to get close enough to the scene of the murders for Derek and Stiles to be able to smell everything they needed to. The scent of blood, pain, and terror was fresh, along with the scents of the police and crime scene investigators who'd been called in-- but Stiles's scent _was_ there. "I think it's old," Derek said, frowning in concentration as he dragged in another deep breath. "Older than the rest, I mean."

"Can you be sure?" Stiles demanded.

"They're from the same time period," Derek warned. "They're very close, but-- If I had to swear to it, I would say your scent is the oldest one here."

"That doesn't prove anything, though," Stiles insisted.

"That proves you were here before either victim or the perpetrator," Derek argued.

"And can you specifically smell a perpetrator?" Stiles demanded.

"I can smell three different people," Derek clarified. "Besides you, there's two victims and a stranger-- process of elimination says, if you were there before all three of them, which the scent suggests, the stranger must be the perpetrator."

"Unless my scent changed because I was being all evil," Stiles argued. "That's possible, right?"

”No," Derek said adamantly. "Not at all-- the base scent, _your_ scent, would stay the same. There might be a little bit added, but I would still be able to smell your scent."

"I don't know, Derek, you couldn't tell when I was the nogitsune."

"That was complete possession," Derek countered. "The scent of the nogitsune changed to match your scent."

Stiles huffed, frustrated. "Then why can't I remember what happened last night?"

Derek thought about that for a moment. "You still don't have a really solid anchor," he said slowly. "That can sometimes affect a shifter's behavior and memory on whatever phase of the moon their other side is most attuned to."

"That's your answer?" Stiles asked. "I'm a lunatic?"

"That's not what I said," Derek said patiently. "What did I say?"

Stiles sighed. "I heard you, I just-- I can't do this again."

Derek stepped forward, laying a comforting hand on Stiles's shoulder. "We'll get to the bottom of this," he promised.

Stiles nodded, and looked down. "Okay," he whispered.

Derek brought Stiles in for a hug, offering comfort. "We'll figure this out," he repeated.

* * *

They did not figure it out. No matter how hard they looked, they could find no evidence that Stiles had murdered those people - but they didn't find any evidence that he hadn't, either. Derek remained optimistic, and Stiles tried to do the same, but deep inside he _knew_ that he was guilty. It was the only explanation that made sense, and he thought that Derek was starting to see that, too.

Stiles started spending more and more time as a fox. Things were simpler in the animal's head, the weight of his guilt lighter somehow although still present, and it was also easier to get what he needed from Derek. It was unlikely that Derek would ever refuse Stiles a hug - he'd been ready to initiate physical contact often enough - but Stiles didn't know how to ask for one. When he was a fox, it seemed almost natural for Derek to pet him during the day and let him curl up close at night. If Stiles was going to shift after they woke up he always made sure to do it a good hour later and when Derek wasn't looking, and neither of them mentioned it afterwards. Stiles wasn't sure they were brave enough to.

Derek certainly wasn't; it wasn't good for Stiles to spend so much time in his other form. He ran the risk of the animal side taking over, which wouldn't be good for anyone. Unfortunately, Derek didn't get the opportunity to talk to him about it before Stiles came back one night, covered in blood. "What happened?" Derek demanded, horrified at the sheer amount of blood-- _someone else's_ blood.

Save for the blood, Stiles was completely naked, but he wasn't aware of that fact. He could barely even remember shifting out of his fox form; all he'd known when he realised what had happened was that he needed to find Derek. Stiles staggered towards him now, but his knees gave out before he could reach him and he folded to the floor. "I think I killed someone," he sobbed. "No, I-- I know. Derek, I killed someone."

Derek fell to his own knees and grabbed Stiles's upper arms urgently. "What? Stiles, _what_ happened?"

"I found him, the werewolf that's been in the territory," Stiles told him, as coherently as he could. "Only he wasn't a werewolf. Derek, I attacked him, and he was a human, but I was _so sure_ it was a wolf, I _knew_ it was, but it wasn't, and one of them got away, but-- but I must've blacked out and when I came around there were two more dead humans and there was blood, God, there was so much blood, Derek, I killed them, I know I did, I killed them, oh God..."

"'One of them'?" Derek echoed, confused. "You mean there was more than one person?" He helped Stiles to his feet, leading the other shifter to the bathroom and helping him into the shower, turning the spray on lukewarm so he could rinse the blood off.

"Well, there must've been, if there are _multiple dead bodies_!" Stiles hissed. He started shaking as soon as he was under the water, his gaze fixed on the bright crimson swirling around the drain and staining the bathtub.

Derek didn't reply until he was sure all of the blood was gone; he turned the shower off and helped Stiles out, wrapping him up in a couple of towels, helping him dry off before herding him towards the bed and wrapping him up in Derek's arms and the comforter. "Can you start from the beginning?" he asked quietly.

Stiles took in a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. "I don't remember much," he said.

Derek rubbed Stiles's back soothingly. "You said you smelled the strange wolf again?"

"I-- I thought I did," Stiles whispered. "But he wasn't a wolf, Derek. I don't know why he smelled like one to me, but he was very, very human. And the others... I don't even remember them. All I could see was this guy, and I _wanted_ to kill him. I don't know if he was one of the..."

"Hey," Derek said quietly, tucking Stiles in closer to him. "I'm here, okay? We'll sort this out."

Stiles' breath hitched on a sob. "I feel like I'm losing my mind, Derek," he confessed.

Derek chest ached, but all he did was bury his face in the crook of Stiles's neck, scenting the other shifter. "I know, Stiles," he whispered, broken and frustrated. "I'm sorry."

* * *

"You have to do it," Stiles said some time later, when they'd been silent for what felt like hours. They'd separated in that time; Stiles was curled up at the head of the bed, still wrapped up in the towels and comforter, and Derek was in the chair across the room. He looked as lost as Stiles felt. "What we said you would, if... Derek, you have to do it."

"I'm not doing anything until we know for sure what happened," Derek said firmly. "That would-- Stiles, it would kill me as surely as it'd kill you, if I... if we weren't sure, and then it turned out you were innocent."

"How much more proof do you need?" Stiles asked incredulously.

"I need to be absolutely certain Stiles, and there's too many questions," Derek snapped.

Stiles flinched and looked away.

Derek sighed. "I made you a promise, Stiles," he said quietly, "but I won't keep it until it becomes absolutely necessary."

Stiles nodded. "Okay."

Derek and Stiles spent the rest of that day and night in the hotel room, Derek leaving briefly for food; they curled up together for a little bit that night, Derek murmuring reassurances and rubbing circles into Stiles's back. The next morning, however, found them entertaining visitors: the alpha of the local pack and two of his betas. Derek didn't open the door all the way immediately. "Can I help you?" he asked warily; they didn't smell happy; the betas smelled mad, and their posture screamed aggression.

The alpha didn't look any happier to be here than Derek was to see them; he sighed. "There was another attack yesterday; your packmate's scent was all over both bodies. He also attacked a human member of our pack. I'd like to speak with both of you."

"He was part of your pack?" These were the first words Stiles had spoken all day, though he'd been awake for a couple of hours. "Let them in, Derek."

Derek glanced back at Stiles before complying, opening the door. "What is he saying?" he asked.

"He is saying that he was out in the woods and came across Stiles and the two victims," the alpha answered. "He was spotted and attacked."

Stiles' startled gaze flickered to Derek's. "That's not how I remember it," he said meekly.

The alpha tilted his head. "How do you remember it?" he asked, his tone neutral.

One of the betas snorted. "You're really going to ask for _his_ opinion? He attacked Logan!"

The alpha flashed his eyes at the beta, teeth bared. "We do not know that for sure; I would have all the facts before I judge someone."

Stiles _really_ didn't want to, but he told them everything he'd told Derek, looking at his lap the whole time. He spoke in a steady, monotonous tone, trying to stay as detached as possible, but he was shaking again by the time he reached the end of his story.

Derek had settled by Stiles's side, showing his support and taking Stiles's hand in his, squeezing lightly. Stiles's heartbeat didn't skip once, and the alpha commented on that. "You are telling the truth," he said slowly. "But your scent was all over the victims as well as Logan. It wasn't just a same-area scent, you actually touched the victims."

"I don't deny that I did it," Stiles said quietly. "I'm just saying that I don't know what happened."

Derek looked at Stiles sharply. "I don't believe you did it," he argued. "You're not that kind of person, Stiles-- you only attacked that man because you thought he was a threat."

"And what kind of threat could a human pose?" one of the betas snapped. "How does that explain the two that are dead?"

Stiles winced. "I don't know," he said. "I thought your packmate was a wolf, I've said that, but... I don't know."

"Stiles isn't rabid, or feral," Derek said defensively. "He wouldn't attack if he didn't feel like he was in danger."

The betas opened their mouths to argue again, but the alpha cut them off. "Enough. We have conflicting stories, and not enough evidence to decide either way," he said firmly. "Let us wait until the forensics team investigates. For now," he added, leveling a meaningful look on both Derek and Stiles, "try to stay out of the woods, and away from my pack."

"We will," Stiles promised.

* * *

"Stiles, please," Derek pleaded. "Just let me tell them; they can help us." Less than a day after the meeting with the alpha of the local pack found Derek and Stiles fighting, this time over whether or not to tell the rest of the pack about what was going on.

"No, they can't," Stiles argued. He hadn't slept since the alpha's visit, and had retreated into the safety of his fox form before the door had finished closing behind them. It was typical that he'd abandoned it just to fight with Derek. "They don't need to know anything; we can deal with this ourselves."

"If nothing else they can help us by providing a more objective view," Derek retorted.

"Objective?" Stiles asked incredulously. "They wouldn't be objective! They'd jump straight back onto the Save Stiles bandwagon, they'd come here and they'd get themselves killed!"

"Okay, maybe 'objective' wasn't the right word," Derek conceded, "but they still deserve to know, Stiles. They care about you."

Stiles actually _growled_. "And I care about them! They're safe where they are, so they should stay there!"

"And you get to make that decision?" Derek challenged. "You get to decide for them what they should do when it comes to one of their packmates?"

"Don't say that like you're not doing the same thing!" Stiles cried. "By telling them you'll be making sure that they do come here, because there's no way they'll decide not to, and you know that! And then _you_ will have put them in danger!"

"No," Derek countered, "I'll be _informing_ them, and giving them a choice! I would tell them the truth and let them decide for themselves."

"But you know what they'll decide, Derek!"

"They're not the impulsive teenagers you remember, Stiles!" Derek shouted. "We went through several crises since you disappeared, and it made them mature. They actually _listen_ to advice now, and consider their options carefully! They don't go rushing headfirst into danger!"

Stiles glared at Derek. "If you tell them, I will _never_ go back there."

Derek growled, low and long. "Why are you so damned ready to believe yourself guilty?" he snarled. "Shit happened to you, Stiles, but shit happens to _everyone_. That isn't a fucking excuse-- you're just _afraid_ , and too fucking cowardly to own up to it and try to find a damn answer!"

It had been a long time since Derek had been able to frighten Stiles, and he didn't frighten him now. "You're damn right I'm afraid!" he yelled. "I'm afraid that I'm going to _murder my friends_ , not some evil spirit that's possessing me, not someone forcing my hand, _me_. If they come here and I hurt them, that will be on me and no one else. I'm afraid of the way Scott will look at me when he realises that I'm losing my mind. I'm afraid that if it isn't me, whatever else is out there and killing people will kill them because they're close to me, and I'm afraid that if it is me, they won't have the strength to do what needs to be done! I'm afraid that they'll _die_ , and that I won't be able to stop it!" He paused for breath, trying to calm the pounding of his heart. "I'm allowed to be scared, Derek, so don't talk to me like that makes me weak. It's not that I don't want to find an answer; it's that I want them to be safe."

"So find an answer," Derek argued, stunned by Stiles's response. "Find the answer, and take care of it. You could _never_ hurt them, Stiles; you haven't hurt me, and the fact that you're worried about hurting them argues for you not being able to. We all still believe in you, Stiles-- _I_ believe in you. You're not possessed, and you could never hurt your friends."

"But you want to take that risk?" Stiles demanded. "Because if you bring them here and even one of them gets hurt, that's on you. No one will have forced your hand, either." It was a low blow, he knew, but he was desperate.

Derek jerked like Stiles had slapped him. "That's low, even for you," he growled. "Plenty of them got hurt, hell, _I_ got hurt, after you left because we couldn't figure out what the problem was as quick as you could. Lydia's smart, but she can't see patterns the way you can, can't piece together a puzzle as quickly. But we sucked it up and dealt because we had to, so we could find the problem and get rid of it. They'll do the same if they come here."

Stiles sighed. "Fine," he said. "Fine. But it shouldn't be you who calls them. Give me your phone."

Derek sighed, fishing his phone out. "Thank you," he said, handing it over.

Stiles looked from Derek to the phone, and then bolted into the bathroom, slamming the door shut before dropping Derek's phone into the toilet.

Derek slammed against the door a second too late; he froze when he heard the phone hit the water. Then he pounded his fist against the door. " _Stiles_!" he roared, furious. He paced away from the door, then glared back at it. "All right, you know what? _Fuck. You_." It wasn't the smartest thing Derek had ever done, but he left Stiles behind in the motel room; if he didn't put some space between them, he was going to end up doing something he'd regret.

Stiles was shaking again by the time he heard the motel room door slam behind Derek, but he knew he'd done the right thing. He just couldn't risk his friends like that, not when Derek had already promised to take matters into his own hands if Stiles did turn out to be guilty. Of course, Derek might not actually come back now, but even that was better. That way Derek couldn't get hurt, either.

It took Stiles a good ten minutes to leave the bathroom, and when he did it was only to stagger over to the bed and fall face-down onto it. Maybe things would look better if he could just sleep for a little while.

* * *

Derek had gone into town, buying a new cell phone(thank God he had Verizon and all of his contacts were stored in the Cloud), and spending a bit of time wandering around before he headed back to the motel room. He never could have imagined what he would find when he got there.

There was a woman in the main room, sobbing and begging for Stiles to stop-- but Stiles himself was in the corner, staring at the woman in horror. "What is going on here?" Derek demanded, noticing how the woman was tied to the radiator, _reeked_ of Stiles's scent, and was covered in bruises.

"Oh my God, help me, please!" the woman sobbed. She was bleeding from a split lip and a cut on her cheek, and her wrists were raw from where she'd been trying to get loose. "This guy, he's a psycho, please, you have to get me out of here!"

Derek moved towards her, untying the rope around her wrists. "What happened?" he asked firmly, gripping the woman's shoulders and giving her a slight shake. "Tell me _exactly_ what happened."

The woman was sobbing, terrified, and it took her a few moments to collect herself enough to speak. Stiles didn't move an inch. "I'm staying here," she told Derek. "A few doors down, and I was going out to my car, and-- and he grabbed me! He dragged me in here and he was beating me and he wouldn't stop. I begged him but he wouldn't stop."

Her heart didn't skip, and Derek didn't know what to think. Everything in him said that Stiles wasn't capable of doing that, but she wasn't lying... "Alright, ma'am, I'm going to take you to someone who can help," he said soothingly, dialing the number for the emissary of the local pack. "I'm going to call him now, and we'll wait outside for him to come pick you up, okay?"

"O--okay." The girl let Derek help her to her feet, and didn't take her eyes off of Stiles until they were outside. "Lock the door," she pleaded as soon as it was closed behind them. "And call the police, please, you can't let him... He'll do it again, he said he would."

Derek locked the door, but he didn't call the police; he wasn't going to get them involved with this before he had to. "It's alright," he reassured her. "He won't get to you again." She was so distraught that she didn't notice Derek draining her pain, and when the emissary showed up, Derek handed her over. "Check her thoroughly," he said, voice low. "I don't-- this just seems wrong." The emissary-- a native woman-- nodded, helping the injured woman into her car. Derek watched them drive away, and then went back into the hotel room, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Stiles still hadn't moved when Derek reappeared, and he didn't move now. He just kept staring at the opposite wall, his arms wrapped around his knees. Derek approached slowly, crouching down so that he wasn't cornering Stiles. "What happened?" he asked, voice low. "I want to know what you did."

Stiles' gaze slid to Derek for the first time. "I don't know," he said, his voice hoarse. "I don't know."

There was no skip, and Derek was more confused than ever. "She said you attacked her; do you remember that?"

"No," Stiles said. "I don't remember anything. Except, that she was here, and bleeding, and begging me to stop."

More truth, and Derek didn't know what to think anymore; he still believed Stiles was innocent-- but that was getting harder and harder to continue believing. Derek sighed. "Stiles..."

"What do you want me to say?" Stiles asked. "There's no getting around it this time, Derek. I might not be able to remember, but it was me, wasn't it? I hurt that girl."

"I don't... I don't know," Derek admitted after a few moments. "I just-- I don't know."

Stiles grabbed Derek's wrists then, with an urgency that startled them both. "You have to stop me, Derek. You can't let me do this again."

"I-- I will," Derek said; even he could hear his heart skip over the lie.

Stiles heard it too this time, but he didn't recognise it for what it was. "Then do it," he said earnestly. "Now!"

Derek raised one hand, claws extended-- but he couldn't go through with it. He couldn't... He couldn't kill Stiles.

He loved him too much.

"I can't," he choked out. "I'm... I can't. I just-- there's got to be another way, Stiles."

" _What_?" Stiles demanded. "You promised!"

"I did, I know I did," Derek said frantically, "But I can't do it, I thought I could, but I can't, Stiles, I'm sorry."

Realisation dawned on Stiles' face. "You're lying," he accused. "Oh my God, I can _hear_ you lying!"

Derek wanted to protest-- but he _was_ lying. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I can't-- Stiles, don't ask me to _kill you_. Please, I can't do that again."

"I've been asking you to kill me this whole time!" Stiles hissed. "You know that, you promised! And you've been lying to me all along, haven't you?"

"Fine, yes," Derek spat. "I was never going to kill you; I was going to find another way to stop you."

"Oh, my God." Stiles shoved away from Derek and got to his feet, his eyes wide. "I can't believe this. I trusted you, I _needed_ you, and you-- you just let me think that you were it, my knight in shining armour who was so much stronger than everyone else. Clearly I was wrong."

"Stiles," Derek said desperately, pushing himself to his own feet. "Please, don't-- I said I'd find a way to stop you, I wasn't lying about that."

Stiles spun and grabbed Derek again, his eyes filled with desperate tears. "Derek, I'm hurting people, I'm _killing people_. Please, this is me begging now, put me in the ground before I can do it again."

Derek hesitated, torn-- but he couldn't. He couldn't be responsible for the death of someone he loved again; he couldn't go through another Paige. "I'm sorry," he whispered, tears blurring his vision. "I can't, Stiles, I'm sorry."

Stiles hated to see Derek so upset, but this was more important than hurt feelings. "Then I'll find someone who will," he said quietly, and walked over to the door.

It turned out that he didn't need to do much looking. When he opened it, the alpha of the local pack was outside.

The alpha offered Stiles a hard smile. "I've received word from our emissary that there's been another, more definitive incident," he said.

Stiles sighed and stepped back from the door. "You're right," he said. "Come in."

The alpha stepped inside; Derek quickly tried to make himself presentable, though he wasn't sure how successful he was. The alpha spoke first. "Our emissary picked up a young woman who claims she was beaten by a young man staying in this room," he said. "She pointed out Stilinski's picture as the man who attacked her."

"It was me," Stiles confirmed. "I-- I don't remember it but I know it was me."

The alpha nodded solemnly, but Derek stepped forward. "You just said you don't remember, Stiles," he said, a bit desperately. "How can you know?"

Stiles ignored him, but spoke directly to the alpha. "I want to hand myself over to you," he said. "I need to be stopped."

"Stiles--"

The alpha held up a hand. "You're surrendering, of your own free will?"

Stiles' heart was pounding. "Yes," he said.

The alpha opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the ringing of a phone. He frowned, pulling it out and answering with a sharp, "Yes?" Derek didn't hear the rest of the conversation, but when the alpha hung up and pocketed his phone, Derek looked up. "Excuse me," the alpha said, a bit stiffly. "I need to go beat the truth out of some people. Don't leave this hotel room."

”What?" Stiles demanded. "You're gonna leave me here? What if I hurt someone again?"

"You won't," the alpha said shortly before walking out the door, leaving a very confused pair of shifters behind.

Stiles stumbled back and sat down heavily on the bed. "Fuck."

Derek collapsed onto the other bed, his head in his hands. "Ditto," he mumbled.

"Did you hear anything from the person who called?" Stiles asked.

"It sounded like the emissary," Derek answered. "She said something about an enchantment, and mentioned that human you thought was a wolf."

Stiles nodded, not really taking Derek's words in. "Okay. I guess he'll be back soon."

Derek blew out a breath. "Yeah, I guess he will."

Stiles sighed, and let them lapse into silence.

* * *

The alpha didn't return for another couple of hours, but neither Derek nor Stiles tried to leave the motel room, too worried about what might happen and what they might miss if they did. When the alpha showed up, he wasn't quite able to hide the upset he was feeling as he explained what had transpired: Logan, the human that Stiles had perceived as a threat, had been framing Stiles for the murders. He'd gotten a charm, which when placed upon a person, allowed Logan to implant memories, true or not. He'd been the one to beat the woman, but had used the charm to make her believe it had been Stiles.

"I don't-- I don't understand," Stiles confessed when the alpha had finished his story. " _Why_?"

The alpha shook his head. "He... was prejudiced. He thought you weren't 'pure,' weren't worthy of being a shifter. He was a fanatic."

"What the actual _fuck_?" Stiles demanded. "Who is he to decide who's _worthy_ or not? I thought I was losing my mind!"

"I am sorry," the alpha apologized, even though he knew how useless it was. "He will be dealt with, harshly. Everyone in the pack is horrified at what he did; no one should go through what he put you through."

Stiles couldn't even bring himself to respond; didn't dare, for fear of his voice cracking around the lump in his throat. Instead, he looked to Derek for the first time in hours.

Derek returned the look, his horror and sorrow clear in his expression. The alpha offered them one last apology, saying he would make sure they were left alone for the rest of the time they were in the area, before he left, leaving them alone. "Stiles," Derek said helplessly, not sure what he should say.

Stiles just shook his head, his mouth working soundlessly. "I was so sure," he finally whispered. "I was so _scared_."

Derek followed his instincts, stepping forward and pulling Stiles into his arms, holding onto his packmate tightly. "It wasn't you," he said quietly, still a bit in shock of the fact that they finally knew for _sure_ that it wasn't Stiles. "It wasn't you."

Stiles felt the tension that had been building within him ever since the first bodies were found flood out of him all at once, and he started to sob into Derek's shoulder.

Derek held Stiles for several long moments, his hands stroking up and down Stiles's back, his face buried in the crook of the other's shoulder. "I've got you," he murmured. "You're okay; I've got you."

Stiles couldn't say how long they stayed like that, but at last he found his voice. "I'm so sorry. For everything I did, and, and the things I said. I'm so sorry."

Derek didn't pull back; he wasn't going to be the one to back away, to take away the comfort. "It's okay," he said quietly, a bit muffled. "You were scared; I understand."

Stiles was grateful, and clung to Derek like he was a lifeline. "Was he telling the truth?" he asked eventually. "It really wasn't me?"

"He was," Derek confirmed. "He was telling the truth; none of it was you, Stiles."

"Fuck," Stiles breathed. " _Fuck_ , I can't believe it."

Derek hugged Stiles tighter. "I knew it couldn't have been you," he murmured. "I'm sorry for doubting that."

Stiles sniffled and pressed impossibly closer. "I'm sorry for asking you to kill me."

Derek shook his head then. "It's fine," he said quietly, rubbing a circle onto Stiles's back. "Let's just agree that we weren't exactly the most rational pair, okay?"

"Deal," Stiles whispered, and then, "Can we go home?"

Derek smiled slightly. "Yeah," he answered. "We can go home."

* * *

They left on the first flight the next morning, and Stiles didn't sleep for even a minute until he was back in Beacon Hills, had hugged his dad and was curled up in his own bed. It had taken Stiles a good half hour to convince his dad that yes, he was fine and no, he wasn't leaving again and yes, he would explain everything at a meeting with the pack the following morning. Derek hadn't followed him home, in favour of going straight to the loft, and Stiles wasn't sure how he felt about that - but he also wasn't awake long enough to worry about it once his head hit the pillow.

The next day, the entire pack gathered at the loft, and Stiles and his dad were the last to arrive. Once all the hugs and demands for information were over, Stiles sank into the seat beside Derek and together they told their story.

When they were done, the rest of the pack was silent with shock; Scott was the first to move, lunging forward to tackle Stiles into a hug. "I'm so sorry, bro," he said fervently. "I'm so sorry, fuck, I should've been there."

"It's okay," Stiles said, hugging Scott back. "I didn't want you there, any of you. I had to deal with it by myself."

"Then how come you let Derek stay?" Kira asked; not judging, just curious.

Stiles shrugged. "He was already there, and I... There were things I needed him to do."

Curiosity was palpable in the air, but it was understood that none should pry. Cora shifted from her place on the couch to her brother's lap, throwing her arms around him, mumbling so low into his ear that no one but Derek could hear what she said; they could see the regret that flashed across Derek's face, though, and the way he let Cora cling to him, the way he held her.

Giving the siblings space, Scott turned back to Stiles. "So, a fox, huh?" he asked, smiling. "Can't say I'm surprised; you've always been unique."

Stiles nodded. "I was pretty freaked out at first, but now I think it's cool," he said. "And being a fox is really fun. I'm wicked fast."

Scott grinned. "We'll have to test that out," he mused. "Maybe on the full moon?"

Stiles grinned. "Sounds like fun."

* * *

It was only a day and a half later that Derek opened the loft door to the sight of a fully-shifted Stiles. He let the fox in, closing the door behind him and walking over to the couch. "C'mon," he said, patting the cushion next to him. "I was just about to catch up on _Bones_." He figured Stiles wasn't having a good day, considering he'd had no warning besides the scratching of claws on the outside of the loft door and a sharp bark, and that if he wanted to, Stiles would talk about whatever was bothering him. If not, then Derek would just offer Stiles companionship and a place to rest.

Stiles liked _/Bones_ and was quite far behind himself, so he jumped up onto the sofa and settled down in the middle of the cushion. Even just walking through the door had made him feel better; Scott and his dad meant well, but they'd been kind of overbearing since he'd got back. With Derek, he knew he could be himself.

Derek gave Stiles a quick head rub as he flipped through the DVR, finding the earliest recorded episode and hitting play. "I'm going to grab a bottle of water; you want some, too?" he asked, looking at Stiles.

Stiles nodded, his gaze fixed on Derek.

"Cool," Derek said with a smile that turned a bit teasing. "Think you can manage drinking out of a bottle, or do you want a bowl?"

Stiles had no way of answering, so he just levelled Derek with an unimpressed look and turned away.

Derek chuckled, disappearing into the kitchen and coming back with trail mix and two water bottles, along with a bowl just in case Stiles did need it.

An hour later and Stiles was close to drifting off. He hadn't felt this relaxed in weeks, and he knew he was safe with Derek. Derek, who was big and soft and warm. Stiles yawned and got to his feet, padding along the couch cushion with his eyes only half open until his nose brushed against Derek's arm. When the arm didn't move, Stiles ducked his head and butted it again.

This time Derek lifted his arm, chuckling when he saw a sleepy Stiles. He patted his lap invitingly. "C'mon," he coaxed.

Stiles made a sleepy little sound and crawled gratefully into Derek's lap. He was asleep within minutes.

Derek smiled, using one hand to stroke over Stiles's back and lightly scratch behind his ears; he liked seeing Stiles so relaxed, and he liked knowing that Stiles trusted him enough to let his guard down so completely. A quiet buzzing caught his attention; it was a text from Scott: **Have you seen Stiles?**

Derek texted back with one hand (no mean feat; he was rather proud of himself for it). **He's with me. Don't bother us.**

**Long as he's safe.**

**He is.**

* * *

When Stiles woke, he was immediately aware that something was different. With no small amount of trepidation, he opened his eyes. He was on Derek's couch, in Derek's arms, and he was _completely naked_. "Oh fuck!"

Derek, who'd fallen asleep himself, jerked awake at Stiles shout. "Who-what?" he spluttered, hands up in fists. "Whaz tha'?"

Stiles shrieked, flailed, and toppled off of Derek and onto the floor. He was willing to thank his new reflexes for the fact that he managed to grab a throw pillow from the couch on his way down and use it to cover his crotch. "Fuck, ow, Derek I'm so sorry, if you could-- Eyes on the ceiling, _eyes on the ceiling_!"

Derek, who'd been staring at Stiles, immediately jerked his gaze away, flushing hotly. "Sorry."

Stiles' face was burning too. "Do you, umm. Pants. Please?"

"What-- Oh right, yeah, hang on a sec." Derek practically flew up the stairs, grabbing the first pair of sweatpants he found and dashing back to hand them to Stiles, averting his gaze until Stiles was clothed.

"Thanks," Stiles said belatedly, having yanked on Derek's sweatpants as quickly as he could. He was flying free in them, but thankfully they were anything but tight; they were too loose around the waist, and he was actually holding them up. "I'm so sorry, man, that's never happened before."

Derek shrugged one shoulder. "Well, uh-- I fell asleep while you were still shifted," he explained. "I didn't even realize you'd shifted back."

That was great and everything, but it didn't make Stiles want to die any less. "Okay, umm." He looked around. "I should probably go."

"You don't have to," Derek said, probably too quickly. "I mean, I don't-- stuff like that happens to everyone, it's fine."

"Well, I can't stay like this," Stiles said. The hold he had on Derek's pants was iron-tight; he was convinced that if he relaxed it even a little bit, they would end up in a puddle around his ankles. "And what if I shift and it happens again?"

"Those have a drawstring, you know," Derek pointed out before answering Stiles's question. "I grew up in a family of shifters. It happened to even the most experienced of them if they were relaxed enough."

If it was possible, Stiles' blush deepened, and he quickly tightened the drawstring. "That doesn't mean I'm okay with being naked in front of you," he pointed out, embarrassed. "Or anyone else, for that matter."

"I, er, didn't mean to imply that," Derek said apologetically. "But I'm not-- bothered by it. I'm actually kind of flattered your fox apparently trusts me that much."

"Of course I trust you," Stiles answered automatically. "I trust you more than anyone."

Oh. Derek hadn't expected that answer, but... "Thanks," he said, a small smile playing about his lips.

Stiles looked down, embarrassed again. "So, umm. I guess I can stay, if you want."

"I'd enjoy your company," Derek admitted, "but only if you're comfortable with staying."

Stiles shrugged. "You've already seen my ass once today. It can't get any worse, right?"

"No, it can't," Derek agreed, smiling. "I can grab you a shirt if you want one."

"Please," Stiles said, flopping back down onto the sofa. "How much did I miss before you passed out?"

"About an episode," Derek guessed, getting up to grab a shirt; he tossed it at Stiles when he returned. "They'd just gone past the opening credits when I conked out."

"Cool." Stiles pulled on the shirt and gave Derek a smile. "You wanna keep going?"

"Yeah," Derek answered, settling back in. "Missed pretty much the whole last half of the season while we were gone."

Stiles winced. "I'm sorry," he said, for what had to be the thousandth time.

Derek reached over and flicked Stiles in the ear. "Quit apologizing," he chided gently.

Stiles stuck his tongue out at him. "That hurt, asshole."

"I'll flick you in the nose if you don't be nicer," Derek threatened, but his voice was fond, belying his intent.

"No you won't," Stiles said confidently. "I'd tell Scott."

"Ooh, scary," Derek said with a smile, rolling his eyes. "What'll he do; lecture me?"

"He'll beat your ass," Stiles teased, grinning. "No one treats his favourite human like that."

"Oh, his favorite human? I thought that was his mom," Derek shot back, enjoying the easy banter he hadn't realized he'd missed so much.

"Parents don't count," Stiles explained patiently. "Besides, I'm everyone's favourite human."

"That you are," Derek agreed with a small smile. "Come on, we can start with the episode you fell asleep on."

Stiles blinked, but his smile only faltered for a second. "Cool," he said, trying to ignore the way he suddenly felt pleasantly warm all over.

Derek offered Stiles another brief smile before clicking play.

* * *

Stiles started spending a lot of time over at Derek's after that. For one, he was still the only person Stiles felt completely comfortable around who wasn't likely to smother him, but he was also wicked smart. Since he'd missed a good chunk of his senior year, Stiles had returned to Beacon Hills fully prepared to repeat it and try again next year, only to find that Lydia had maintained his GPA by completing and handing in all of his assignments. All that was left for Stiles to do was catch up so that he could ace his finals, and it turned out that Derek's loft was the best place to study; not only was it quiet there, but Derek made an excellent tutor.

He also made an excellent friend. They'd finished up for the day, ending on a high note with Stiles passing a practice Chemistry exam that Derek had mocked up for him, and now they were watching TV with a pizza between them. "Hey," Stiles said during a commercial break, disturbing the comfortable silence that had grown between them. "Can I ask you something?"

Derek stretched, yawning slightly before nodding. He'd stayed up late to make up that test for Stiles, trying to find the right balance between challenging and too complicated for each question, but he didn't regret a moment. "Sure."

Stiles looked down at his lap. "Why wouldn't you do it? Y'know, stop me. When I asked."

"Because we didn't know for sure, at first," Derek said quietly. "Then, I just... I couldn't kill you."

"But why?" Stiles asked. "You knew what I was asking you to do; why even agree to it in the first place?"

"Because I never thought it'd get that bad," Derek answered helplessly.

"You said that you wouldn't do it again," Stiles remembered, his gaze flickering up to Derek's face. "Did you mean, like what happened with Boyd?"

Derek swallowed. "Not exactly," he murmured. "I couldn't-- Not like with Paige."

"Paige?" Stiles asked. "But, you don't..."

Derek couldn't meet Stiles's gaze. "If you know about Paige, then you understand why I couldn't... why I couldn't go through with that again."

Stiles had no idea how he felt about that, but he did know that his heart was doing funny things in his chest. "Derek..."

Derek still wasn't looking at Stiles. "It's fine," he said, lips twitching like his face couldn't settle on an expression. "I know you don't-- It's fine."

"No," Stiles said quickly, before he could stop himself. "It's not... I don't _know_."

" _Stiles_ ," Derek said quietly, finally meeting Stiles's eyes. "It's fine. Okay? I don't expect anything from you; I'm perfectly fine with just being your packmate. It's okay."

"It's not," Stiles said, and he realised that it was true. He'd always found Derek attractive, he wasn't blind, but something had changed, and he wasn't entirely sure it had changed recently. "I like you. I... I more than like you. It's just, a lot's been going on lately. I couldn't tell you how I feel about curly fries, right now, let alone..."

”Stiles," Derek said firmly, reaching out to grasp Stiles's shoulder in one hand, squeezing lightly. "I don't expect anything, okay? That means I don't expect you to know what you feel, and I definitely don't expect you to reciprocate. If you do, great; if not, if you just want to be packmates, that's perfectly fine with me. Okay? I want you safe and happy."

Stiles nodded, and gave Derek a soft smile. "That's all I want for you, too."

Derek's lips twitched into an answering smile. "Thank you," he said softly. "Take your time, figure things out for yourself, okay?"

"I will," Stiles said. "I promise."

* * *

Things carried on pretty much as normal after that. Derek did notice that sometimes Stiles would spend just a little too long looking at him with a thoughtful expression on his face, but he didn't make a big deal out of it. He thought the pack might suspect something was up between them, which _would_ explain Lydia's sudden insistence that they all go out to a club about a week and a half after Stiles and Derek's talk.

Derek kept an eye on Stiles the first half hour they were there; the newest shifter of the pack hadn't been exposed to an area like this before, an area that was nothing but chaos, but Stiles seemed to handle himself well, and Derek gradually shifted his focus to everyone in the pack. He'd volunteered to be the DD for the night, having spotted the pouch of wolfsbane that Lydia and Malia had snuck in, and was sipping on a diet coke when a guy started hitting on him. Derek was polite, but disinterested, but apparently the guy wasn't taking the hint, and Derek was starting to debate if pouring the rest of his drink on the guy's crotch would get his point across.

Stiles' gaze hadn't left Derek all night, so of course he noticed the guy. At first, although it had disquieted him, he'd opted to leave Derek to it; whatever feelings either of them might have, he didn't _own_ Derek, and he had no place in feeling uncomfortable with someone else taking an interest in him. As soon as he noticed that _Derek_ was the one feeling uncomfortable, however, he was at Derek's side, rudely pushing past the guy to get right into Derek's space. "Dance with me?" he asked, slightly breathless.

Derek blinked, a little taken aback by the speed of Stiles's approach, but he nodded, smiling. "Yeah, sure," he said, abandoning his drink in favor of following Stiles out to the dance floor without looking back. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I really didn't want to waste my drink on his head."

A glance over Derek's shoulder told Stiles that the guy was still watching them, looking more than a little pissed. Stiles responded by wrapping his arms around Derek's waist and pulling him in close, his hips already moving to the music. "Anytime," he said sincerely.

Derek smiled, settling into the rhythm as he and Stiles danced; it was easy to do, when Stiles was moving in front of him the way he was. What _wasn't_ so easy was trying to keep himself from popping a boner; talk about embarrassing. Besides, Stiles still hadn't told him if he felt the same as Derek did, and he didn't want to do anything that could be construed as pressuring Stiles.

Stiles knew exactly what Derek was thinking, and maybe it was kind of a dick move, dancing with him like this, but he just wasn't ready to deal with it. There were too many thoughts, too many emotions, warring inside of him for Stiles to make sense of, and he didn't want to give Derek an answer unless he was sure it was the right one. But he also didn't want to lead Derek on, so when the song was over he released Derek with a soft smile and announced that he needed a drink, leaving Derek's side to wind his way through the crowd and reach the bar. He joined up with the rest of the pack soon enough, but made sure to keep his distance from Derek. The next time someone tried to hit on Derek, this time a pretty girl with cleavage that would make even Danny sit up and take notice, Stiles very pointedly turned away.

Derek couldn't deny that he was confused by Stiles's behavior, but he tried to brush it off; he danced with the girl for a song, and was more than a little grateful when her friends dragged her away to go to another bar. When he got back to the back, he sat down and DD or not, he ordered a tumbler of whiskey.

* * *

Cora wasted no time asking Derek what the hell was going on; she knocked on his door at ass o'clock the next morning and barged in, demanding to know what was going on with Derek and Stiles. Derek, after flailing awake and getting himself tangled in the sheets and rolling off the other side of the bed, answered with a simple, "Fuck off, Cora."

"If you think that's going to work, you hit your head pretty hard just now," Cora said flatly. "Put some pants on, for Christ's sake, and talk to me."

Derek glared up at her from where he was still tangled in the sheets on the floor. "No," he said stubbornly, gripping his sheet tighter.

Cora rolled her eyes, and flopped down onto the bed. "Fine, don't put on pants. You're still going to talk to me."

"No I'm not," Derek said petulantly, though he did pull himself up onto the bed, wrapping the blanket around himself.

Cora kicked him. "Come on," she coaxed gently. "I saw what went down last night, and I saw how crushed you were. So spill."

Derek sighed. "I really love him," he confessed. "And I thought I'd be okay with being just his friend, and I _would_ , but if he keeps pulling stunts like last night..."

Cora frowned. "Is that what he wants?" she asked. "To be just friends?"

Derek shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted miserably. "I thought it was, but when I finally told him how I felt, he said he thought he felt something too."

"Maybe he's just trying to work out how he feels," Cora suggested, pulling a face. "Which, what an asshole way to go about it. I could beat him up?"

"Please don't," Derek said, smiling slightly. "I appreciate the thought, but it's okay."

Cora huffed. "Boys are stupid," she complained, even as she pulled Derek in for a hug. "I think he could be good for you, but do not let him treat you like shit. He pulls another stunt like last night, you kick him to the curb."

Derek leaned into the hug gratefully. "I think you're right," he admitted reluctantly. "I don't want to, but..."

"One more chance," Cora told him. "And if he blows it, that's it."

* * *

Across town, Stiles and his father were having a similar conversation. Just like Cora, the sheriff had burst into Stiles' bedroom at some ungodly hour of the morning and had demanded to know what was going on. "I don't know what you're talking about," Stiles had groaned, rolling over and burying his head beneath the pillow. The sheriff had informed Stiles that breakfast was on the table, and that if he wasn't downstairs in two minutes, he was going to tell Derek that Stiles wanted nothing more to do with him.

It went without saying that Stiles was now sat at the kitchen table, glaring at his father as he chewed morosely on a piece of bacon.

"Don't give me that look," the sheriff chided mildly. "This talk's been a long time coming, son, and you're blind if you haven't seen it. So. The Hale boy."

"What about him?" Stiles asked. If he didn't know that his father would smack him upside the head for being so childish, he'd be pouting.

"Scott tells me you two have gotten _very_ close lately. And he was the first one to go to you after we received word from that pack," the sheriff answered. "Makes a man wonder a bit."

Stiles scowled. "I don't want to talk about it."

The sheriff shrugged, eating a forkful of eggs. "Fine, then I'll talk. Scott told me about what happened last night at the club, and about how you and Derek have been acting the past two weeks. Tells me something's happened between you two."

Stiles winced. He _really_ didn't want to talk about this, but he knew from experience that his dad would keep him there all day if he had to. "Derek... told me that he loves me," he admitted.

One eyebrow rose. "Really?" The sheriff mulled that over for a moment. "Honestly, I'm not surprised. But I'm guessing you were."

"Floored," Stiles agreed. "I had no idea what to say."

That rarely ended well. "So what did you say?"

"That I'd think about it," Stiles answered. "That I definitely liked him, but I didn't know how much?" He grimaced. "I know how bad that sounds, but I just wanted to be honest with him."

"It does sound bad," the sheriff agreed. "But I see your point. But you can't keep doing things like what you did last night; that's not fair."

"That's why I did what I did!" Stiles insisted. "He was being hit on, and he looked so awkward, so I, y'know, cut in. And then I realised that I had no right to do that, I don't _own_ him, so I backed off."

"Think of it from his perspective," the sheriff urged. "Last I checked werewolves can't read minds."

"But what am I supposed to say to him?" Stiles whined. "That I hated the thought of that guy's hands all over him, but I still don't know if I'm ready to commit to him?"

"Do you want to be with anyone else?" the sheriff asked curiously. "I'm not asking if you love him, I'm asking if, at this point in time, do you want to date anyone?"

Stiles looked conflicted. "Dad, there's no one else. Just him."

"Then tell him that," the sheriff replied simply. "I'm not saying tell him that you're in love with him if you don't know that for sure, but tell him at least what you are feeling. Go on a couple of dates with him, just the two of you on an actual _date_ like to the movies or something."

"But what if I can't do it?" Stiles asked, sounding small. "So much has happened lately, Dad. What if I'm too... screwed up?"

The sheriff got up and walked around the table, pulling Stiles into his arms for a tight hug. "You are not too messed up," he said forcefully. "You're not too messed up to fall in love, and you're not too messed up for someone else to love you. Remember that."

Stiles screwed his eyes tight shut, hugging back hard. "I'm trying, Dad."

"That's all that matters, son."

* * *

Derek allowed himself a whole day to mope, but after that he was determined to stay positive; surely Stiles's display meant that he felt _something_? Derek's brooding was interrupted by his phone ringing; a glance at the caller ID revealed it was Stiles, and Derek answered it. "Hello?"

"Hey, Derek," Stiles said cheerfully, hoping to God that werewolves couldn't hear heartbeats over the phone. Not only was his heart pounding but his palms were sweaty and his mind was racing; all good signs, apparently. "I was just wondering, do you have plans for tonight?"

"No," Derek said slowly, confused. "Why?"

Stiles bounced on the spot and forced himself to say his next words in a rush. "Would you like to go get dinner with me?"

"Sure," Derek said, a bit nonplussed. "The diner?"

"Umm, sure," Stiles answered. He'd kind of hoped for somewhere a bit fancier, but he couldn't really expect Derek to understand what was happening here. Stiles still wasn't sure that he understood himself - but he decided to drop them both a clue. Which was why he hastened to add, "Dress nice, okay?" before yanking the phone away from his ear and ending the call.

Derek pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at the screen and frowning. 'Dress nice'?

* * *

It took Stiles too long to realise that he hadn't specified a time - which meant that he didn't work it out until he'd already been at the diner for twenty minutes. He was starting to think that he'd been stood up, and was playing their woefully brief conversation from earlier over and over again in his head, analysing it in minute detail for anything he might have said that Derek could have taken the wrong way, and then it hit him. "Goddamn it," he swore to himself, digging his phone out to text Scott. **HELP!!!! I asked Derek out and he said yes (!!) but I didn't tell him what time to meet me and now I'm sat here by myself like a moron. WHAT DO????**

A few seconds later his phone buzzed, and a familiar message popped up on the screen. **Message delivered to: 'Sourwolf >:['**.

" _Goddamn it_!"

Derek had realized the same thing, and had just been about to call Stiles when a text-- obviously not meant for him-- came through. He was a bit stunned by the realization that Stiles had asked him on a _date_ , but he gathered his wits quickly enough and texted back, **I'm on my way; was just about to call you.**

Stiles wanted to _die_. He just about managed to text back, **ok cool** , before launching his phone across the table and hiding his face in his hands. Derek hadn't even arrived yet and this was already the worst first date in the history of _ever_.

It was easy to find Stiles once Derek got to the diner; he slid into the seat opposite the teenager. "So, this is a date, huh?"

Stiles peeked at Derek through his fingers. "Yes?" he hedged weakly. "If I haven't completely screwed it up."

Derek offered Stiles a reassuring grin. "You only forgot to tell me what time we were meeting," he teased.

Well, Stiles wasn't going to mention the text if Derek wasn't. He cautiously lowered his hands and offered Derek a small smile in return. "Then, yes, I guess this is a date."

Derek let himself smile at that; just then, the waitress came to take their orders, but when she was gone, Derek asked the question that had been bothering him all afternoon. "So, why did you ask me out?"

Stiles had seen this coming, and he was ready. "Because we need to talk," he said. "My dad kind of knocked some sense into me, and he made me realise that I need to be honest with you. I know I haven't exactly been being fair."

"That move at the club was a bit unfair, yeah," Derek admitted. "Why'd you back off?"

"Because I realised that I was being an asshole," Stiles answered. "I know you didn't want that guy's attention, but that didn't mean that you wanted mine either, and I... I didn't like him being all over you like that." He looked away. "I know I had no right to feel that way. And then afterwards I realised how it must look, to you mostly, and I didn't want you to feel like I was leading you on, so..."

Derek sighed, thinking that over for a moment. "I did-- do-- want your attention," he said finally. "Dancing with you was the most fun I had that night. And it hurt, when you went from dancing with me to completely ignoring me."

Stiles winced. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. In case you haven't noticed, I have no idea what I'm doing."

"I've noticed," Derek said with a wry smile.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Well, this is me sending no more mixed messages," he said. "I care about you, a _lot_ , and I want to date you."

Derek couldn't help the hopeful smile that crossed his face. "Good," he said, still smiling. "So, we're giving this a shot then?"

Stiles reached across the table to touch Derek's hand. "I'd like to."

Derek moved his hand so that he could tangle his fingers with Stiles's. "Good."

* * *

They took things slow for a few weeks, gradually finding the new rhythm of their relationship; Stiles still spent more time with Derek than with any other pack member, but now they would spend their time curled up on the couch together, trading the occasional kiss and affectionate touch. Stiles started spending the night, too-- and that was starting to drive Derek a little insane. He loved having Stiles in his bed, loved the way their scents were starting to combine into StilesandDerek... But it was also really, _really_ hard for him to keep his hands to himself.

It was after one such night that Stiles dropped a bombshell on Derek. They'd just woken up, but Stiles was still half-asleep, if the look on his face was anything to go by. The other shifter's expression changed into a thoughtful one, and Derek gently poked him in the cheek. "What're you thinking about?" he asked, smiling slightly.

Stiles smiled and snuggled further down under the covers, his eyes already closing again. "Jus' that I love you," he slurred.

Derek's heart rate kicked up a notch. "You-- what did you say?"

Stiles' eyes snapped open, but rather than looking scared or embarrassed, he just looked vaguely surprised and, a grin spreading across his face, very happy. "That I love you," he repeated.

Derek's own grin widened. "I love you, too," he said, leaning in for a kiss.

Stiles met him halfway.


End file.
